False Prophet
by PancakePopple
Summary: Kiyomi Takada was no goddess. MikamixTakada


**False Prophet**

Some goddesses, according to myth, were known to take a consort they would use for their own fertility, or perhaps solely for the purpose of physical pleasure. In a few myths, these consorts would be sacrificed after a certain amount of time or when they had outlived their usefulness.

She would then present herself to another male she found worthy of her body or her cause; maybe in a similar fashion to how Kiyomi Takada suddenly appeared on Teru Mikami's doorstep one Saturday evening.

This goddess wore a white fur coat, graceful feet in stilettos and curvy body in a black dress that communicated business and pleasure. Her earthly voice said a few pithy words about how she needed to spend a weekend out of Tokyo; a cell of anti-Kira sentiment had not yet been dealt with and God was being watched too closely. Normally goddesses didn't need an excuse to seduce one of the faithful.

No, she was no goddess; she was a vestal virgin…no a plain harlot. She was Potaphar's wife, a consort herself advancing on the slave Joseph because she could by power he was the easiest subject.

Unlike Joseph, Teru did not reject her advances though that probably would not stop her from finding a way to bring him to ruin on a false word to her master. Kira, however, did not care about such petty matters.

He was not aware of Kira's position on non-combative matters of the flesh, such was probably beneath him.

As was Kiyomi Takada now; soft skin bare, glowing with perspiration, and writhing against the just-washed cotton sheets. Ample breasts bounced lightly with each movement, and back and pelvis adjusting position. Her small, soft hands and perfectly manicured nails were the only part of her that recognized Teru's presence with a few light caresses on his arms.

Otherwise she was being pampered by a faithful servant whose work she rewarded with a few light sighs and a smile, eyes closed and neck occasionally craning back like a queen having her feet washed.

This display to her was more about power than it was about lust and Teru was fully aware of that. She was Kira's consort, or at least his closest servant and none of those designations won her any credence in Teru's mind.

Teru was not a wanton man, yet he was a man and had to give himself credit for that at some point even if he did not seek it. It was Takada who presented herself to him; it was Takada who presented him his own ultimate opportunity.

His knees wrapped around the hips of a woman he personally despised; a greedy individual who used the name of Kira to draw his followers to her. She was not doing it in the name of justice; she was doing it in the name of money and power.

Teru stared at her face with a blank expression, or rather stared at the kanji floating above her head. The only thing that kept those characters out of the Death Note was God's promise that she was a necessary servant to his will. For as much as she was using Kira's prosperity as her own she was still bringing Kira prosperity.

But she was beneath him in every way. She did not wield God's divine power, she did not carry out his judgment directly, she was but a mouthpiece.

That was the passion he put into every motion, what made his body warmer with every passing minute. His hands pressed her arms against the bed and his motions became more aggressive. He had been in this position before, but nothing before this was as divine as this; every awkward experiment before was a waste of time compared to this moment.

If he was to be judged for taking her or for the act itself, he would gladly be an example to others not to err in the same way.

If she was not getting his message, only thinking she was being served by a worthy slave, she would regret her miscalculation in time for she had indeed been warned.

A few more breathy sighs poured from her mouth and her body tightened. The natural reaction from her produced the natural reaction from him but without even a hard breath.

Takada gently caressed his cheek with the side of her hand, her smile polite and eyes predatory. Teru simply looked at her; she had her warning, what she did with it was her choice.


End file.
